Epiphany
by Little Hairy Eyeball
Summary: Buffy comes to a realization


TITLE: "Epiphany"  
  
AUTHOR: Elise D. (a.k.a LilHairyEyeball)  
  
FEEDBACK: Gimme gimme. Just be gentle.  
  
SUMMARY: Buffy makes a simple realization.  
  
SPOILERS: Spoiler free, do I get a cookie?  
  
RATING: PG-13.  
  
DISCLAIMER: Nobody buys me good presents, so I steal other peoples  
  
---  
  
There are certain moments in your life when you get sudden clarity. You realize what your purpose is, and what you've been doing wrong. They call it an Epiphany, so she's been told.  
  
Buffy received her epiphany at exactly 11:42p.m last Tuesday night. It hadn't been a special night. She'd helped Willow cook a buffet for the ever- increasing potential population that was squatting in her home. She'd scolded Andrew for spending too much time with Dawn, Dawn for not spending enough time on her homework, and Spike for wanting to take the big sword on patrol, when he knew damn well it was her favorite. There was nothing that could be considered unusual for the life of Buffy Summers. This was pretty much the mundane for the Slayer. Even the demon she and Spike had taken down wasn't a mystery. No deja vu there. Seen one ugly bumpy thing you can't pronounce, seen 'em all.  
  
Spike had gone charging in there. All Rocks!Back!Spike in his leather duster, mumbling something unintelligible about relieving stress after being cooped up in estrogen central, and had promptly been sent flying half way across the cemetery. Of course, he'd come charging straight back into the fray. This was Spike after all. If nothing, the flight had just increased his desire to kill it painfully.  
  
It had taken them a good forty-five minutes of hacking and slashing to get the beast down, but they'd done it. They always did, and it was so much easier when there wasn't a potential asking for a commentary or taking notes. There was just the silent communication between two fighters. Two people that were so in tune with each other, that the most subtle of facial expressions could convey their next five moves. Together, they were unstoppable.  
  
That was not the great realization, in case you were wondering. Buffy had readily admitted to herself, over the Spikeless summer, that he was her best partner in the field. He was her favorite, really. Never a dull time on patrol, if Spike was involved. From the colorful language to the demented anecdotes, she always knew she'd laugh when strolling through the cemeteries with her vampire.  
  
And that's what he is. She'd made that abundantly clear to everyone involved in this latest apocalyptic party. The situation is under control. Nobody will be staking Spike. That is, nobody apart from her, of course. She is the Chosen One, after all. And no doubt Spike would only want Buffy to be the one dealing the final blow. He'd see it as some sort of poetic justice in that mind of his.  
  
The mind of the poet. It's one of the things she's finally begun to understand about him since he came home. He really is insightful. She's always known that, but she never really comprehended just how much he observed and understood before. Denial Buffy had pretty much stomped over any sensitive thought she may have had, back then.  
  
But, it's time to get back to the big thought. Where Spike is sprawled out on the floor, swimming in and out of consciousness. He's made some smart- ass remark about being Giles version 2.0; the smarter, handsomer model, still prone to getting bonked on the head. She's just laughed it off, as she always does, knowing full well that every failure on his part is causing him pain, no matter how small. Then he'd promptly passed out on her.  
  
He seems to punish himself for slipping up, as if it was costing her safety. Not that it is. She's the slayer! She who can take care of herself. It doesn't stop him from worrying though, and she does understand it. She does. He is concerned that one day it will prove to be a fatal mistake, and he'll lose her. Again.  
  
She's pretty sure he wouldn't survive her going on another trip to heaven. In fact, she'd put money, or kittens on it. After hearing the stories about last summer, and seeing how their relationship, and subsequent break-up had affected him, she had no doubt he'd go off the deep end. And then greet the sunrise with a smile.  
  
She sighs when she realizes that he's passed out. It won't be for long, it never is. But then he'll wake up, panic that he's lost her, and get terribly embarrassed when he sees that she watched him act through those emotions.  
  
How does he do it? Put his heart on his sleeve like that? Let everyone know what he's feeling? His sorrow is broadcast to just about everyone that will listen, and it breaks her heart every time she witnesses it. He's always leaving himself wide open for ridicule, and readily accepting any that comes his way. Physical or verbal, she notes.  
  
And yet he does it. Day in, and day out, when she can barely form the words to tell her sister that she's proud of her.  
  
The end is coming, and she needs to change things. Fresh slate Buffy, she realizes. Now is not the time to get stingy with words and expressions. Tell people how you feel, no matter how scary it might sound.  
  
It's not scary. It's freaking terrifying. To tell Willow that you love her, but still worry about the fact she's killed men, and hasn't really redeemed herself for it? To tell Xander he's a moron and she loves him, but she refuses to grow old and lonely alongside him? That she wants more for herself? To tell Spike what, she's not even sure of?  
  
She looks down, to where he lays. Sleeping like a baby. An angular, wicked baby, wrapped in supple leather swaddling, who has caused such a flurry of emotions in her over the past 12 months that she's surprised she can find up from down anymore.  
  
It's when she absently wipes the blood from his eyes that she realizes. She's sitting on her knees, in the middle of the cemetery in the dark, wiping blood from her unconscious ex-boyfriends eyes. And it feels good. It is part of the norm. It's almost laughable, but it's not. She doesn't want this to suddenly stop, whether it is from world-endage or dustage. She wants Spike in her life. In her home life, when he mocks her cooking abilities and taste in music. In her born-to work life, when they take down a nest of vampires together, and then sit and watch the stars with a Diet Coke.  
  
She wants Spike to stick around because she loves him.  
  
Just like that. No lightning bolts, no otherworldly visits. Not even a slight case of gas to indicate something had happened. It just hits her with certain clarity. She is in love with this vampire who was breathing lightly beside her, even though he doesn't need to.  
  
It's not in the tragic manner she had with Angel. There's no angst, apart from the pain they've caused each other in the past. They seem to be through that now. Maturely moved on to a new chapter in their relationship, in a way she and Angel never could. It's not even in the way she had desperately hoped for with Riley, and never achieved no matter how hard she tried. This is pure and new, and surprisingly, not that scary.  
  
She is in love with Spike, and she needs to tell him. Even if nothing comes of her confession. Even if they agree that re-kindling their physical relationship would be a mistake, it didn't matter. She knows how she feels, and he deserves to hear it. While he is still able to hear it, and while she can still say it.  
  
So she sits and waits, for the man she loves to wake up. 


End file.
